The Best Mistake Read online

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I’ll tell you what you mean. You see a woman and a small boy and you think they’re just pining away for some big strong man to come along and fulfill them. Well, that’s bull. If I needed a man, I’d have one. And if I thought Keenan needed a father to make him happy, I’d find him one. And”—she continued, advancing and giving him another jab—“if you think you’re at the head of some fictional list, you’re wrong. Maybe I’m in love with you, but that’s not enough. It’s not just me, and it’s not just you. Keenan comes first. When and if I want a father for Keenan, he’ll be someone with compassion and patience, someone willing to adjust his life to make room for my son. So relax, Cooper. You’re in the clear.”

  “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

  “Good, because I’m finished.”

  He grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “I haven’t. I’m trying to be straight with you, Zoe. I care about you, okay? About both of you. I just don’t want it to get out of hand.”

  “Out of whose hands?” she retorted. “Yours? Then that’s no problem, is it? Because you know how to hold on to everything inside, really tight. Just keep holding on to it, Coop. Don’t worry about me or about Keenan. We’ll be fine.” She jerked her arm free and sat again. Picking up the instruction sheet, she gave it her full attention.

  Now why, he wondered, did he feel as though he’d just been rejected? Shaking his head, Coop took a step in retreat. “As long as we’re clear.”

  “We are.”

  “I’ve, ah, got a little time, if you want me to help you put that grill together.”

  “No thanks. I can do it.” She slanted him a look. “I’m going to grill burgers later. You’re welcome to join us. Unless you’re afraid it will lead to a commitment.”

  She shoots, he thought wryly, she scores. “Thanks anyway. I’ve got plans. Maybe I could take a rain check.”

  “Fine. You know where to find us.”

  * * *

  He got drunk. Not sloppily, but thoroughly. When Coop poured himself out of the cab and staggered toward the house, he already knew he’d hate himself in the morning. But it was tonight he had to deal with.

  He leaned heavily against Zoe’s front door and waited for the porch to settle down under his feet. She might think they’d finished, he told himself blearily, but she was wrong. Dead wrong.

  He’d thought of a dozen things he had to say to her.

  There was no time like the present.

  Lifting a fist, he pounded on the door. “Come on, Zoe.” He pounded again. “I know you’re in there.” He saw a light flick on inside and kept on pounding. “Come on, come on. Open up.”

  “Coop?” From the other side of the door, Zoe belted her hastily donned robe. She’d been home from the lounge for barely twenty minutes and in bed for less than five. “It’s after two o’clock in the morning. What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you. Let me in.”

  “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “You just said it was morning.”

  When he pounded again, she flicked off the locks. “Stop that—you’ll wake Keenan.” Furious, she yanked open the door and had the surprise of a hundred-and-seventy-pound male tumbling against her. “Are you hurt? What happened?” The alarm signals that had screamed on shifted when she caught the scent of beer. “You’re drunk.”

  “Mostly.” He started to straighten, then lost himself in the smell of her. “God, you feel good. What d’you wash this in?” He nuzzled her hair. “Smells like moonbeams.”

  “Really drunk,” she said with a sigh. “Sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  “Don’t want coffee. Doesn’t sober you up, only wakes you up. And I’m awake, and I have something to say to you.” He drew away then, and discovered he wasn’t as steady as he’d hoped. “But I’ll sit down.” He did, heavily. “Hate getting drunk. Haven’t done it like this since I played minor league. Did I tell you I played minor league ball? Triple A.”

  “No.” Baffled, she stood her ground and watched him. “Right out of high school. Two years. Thought I’d make it to the show. The majors. But I didn’t, so I went to college, and now I write about people who did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” He waved that away. “I like writing. Always did. Like watching the games and seeing all the little dramas. If I’d have played, I’d be nearly washed up now. I’m almost thirty-three. Old man for the game.” He focused on her, smiled. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You know, the kid looks just like you. Look at him, see you. It’s spooky. I see you all the time. Minding my own business, and pop! There’s your face in my head. What d’ya make of that?”

  “I don’t know.” She wanted to be angry with him, really she did. But he was so foolishly drunk. “Why don’t I take you upstairs, Coop? Put you to bed.”

  “I want you in my bed, Zoe. I want to make love with you. I want to touch you again.”

  She wanted that, too. Very much. But new lines had been drawn. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Do you know what your skin feels like? I can’t describe it, it’s all soft and smooth and warm. I started thinking about your skin when I was playing poker and getting drunk tonight. I won, too. Took a big pot with a pair of sixes. Pulled in over two hundred and fifty dollars.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “But I kept thinking about you. You have this little dimple right here.” He nearly poked himself in the eye, then dragged a finger down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. “I kept thinking about that little dimple, and your skin, and those big eyes and killer legs. And I kept thinking how I like to watch you with the kid, like I do sometimes from upstairs, when you don’t know. Didn’t know that, did you?”

  “No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t.”

  “Well, see . . .” He gestured wildly. “You’ve got this way of running your hand over his hair. It gets to me.” He shook his head. “It really gets to me. Keenan loves me, you know. He told me he did. So did you.”

  “I know.”

  “And I meant everything I said this afternoon.”

  “I know.” Sighing, she walked over to undo his shoelaces.

  “Every word, Zoe. I’ve got my life set, just like I want it.”

  “Okay.” She pried off his shoes, hefted his legs onto the couch.

  “So you can stop popping into my head, ’cause it’s not changing anything.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He was asleep before she bent over and kissed his cheek.

  Chapter 10

  As hangovers went, Coop knew, this would be a champ. He didn’t have to open his eyes, he didn’t have to move, not when his head was already beating like the Army drum corps.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get home and into bed, but the blur of the evening wasn’t comforting. Still, he thought it best to wait to tax his brain.

  Cautious, close to fearful, he opened his eyes. The little face directly above him had him jerking back, then moaning at the pain.

  “Good morning,” Keenan said cheerfully. “Did you sleep over?”

  “I don’t know.” Coop lifted a hand to his head. “Where’s your mother?”

  “She’s making my lunch. She said I could come in and look at you if I didn’t wake you up. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I was really quiet.”

  “No.” Coop closed his eyes again and prayed for oblivion.

  “Are you sick? Do you have a tempature?” Keenan laid a small, light hand on Coop’s aching forehead. “Mama can make it better. She always makes it better.” Very gently, Keenan replaced his hand with a kiss. “Does that help?”

  Oh, hell, Coop thought. Even a hangover didn’t have a chance against this kid. “Yeah, thanks. What time is it?”

  “The big hand’s on the ten and the little hand’s on the eight. You can sleep in my bed until you’re better, and play with my toys.”

  �
��Thanks.” Coop made the supreme effort and sat up. When his head rolled, he did his best to catch it in his hands. “Keenan, be a pal and ask your mom for some aspirin.”

  “Okay.” He raced off, and the sound of his sneakers pounding the floor had Coop shuddering.

  “Headache?” Zoe asked a moment later.

  Coop lifted his head. She was still in her robe. The robe he remembered from the night before. He was beginning to remember quite a bit from the night before. “If you’re going to yell at me, could you do it later?”

  In answer, she held out aspirin and a glass filled with reddish liquid.

  “What is it?”

  “A remedy from Joe the bartender. He guarantees it’ll take the edge off.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a blast of a horn from outside that cut through Coop’s skull like a dulled knife. While he was dealing with the shock of that, Keenan came racing back.

  “Bye, Mama, bye!” He gave her a smacking kiss, then turned to hug Coop. “Bye.”

  As the door slammed behind him, Coop gulped down Joe’s remedy.

  “Do you want coffee?” Zoe ran her tongue around her teeth and tried not to smile. “Some breakfast?”

  “You’re not going to yell at me?”

  “For barging in here, drunk, in the middle of the night? And for passing out on my sofa?” She paused just long enough to make her point. “No, I’m not going to yell at you. I figure you’re suffering enough.”

  “I am. I promise you.” He got up to follow her into the kitchen. “Not just physically. I feel like a total jerk.”

  “You were a total jerk.” She poured a mug of coffee, set it on the table for him. “My mother’s third husband had a fondness for bourbon. He swore eggs the morning after were the cure. How do you want them?”

  “Scrambled would be good.” He sat gingerly at the table. “I’m sorry, Zoe.”

  She kept her back to him. “For?”

  “For being a jackass yesterday afternoon and a bigger jackass last night.”

  “Oh, that.” With the bacon frying, she chose a small bowl to scramble eggs in. “I don’t imagine it’s the first or the last time you’ll be one.”

  “You didn’t . . .” He shifted miserably. “Ah, you didn’t tell Keenan I was . . .”

  “Drunk and disorderly?” A half smile on her face, she glanced over her shoulder. “I told him you weren’t feeling well and went to sleep on the couch. Which was close enough.”

  “Thanks. I wouldn’t want him to think . . . you know. I don’t make a habit out of it.”

  “So you said last night.” She turned the bacon, whipped the eggs.

  He watched her, gradually getting past the astonishment that she wasn’t going to rub his nose in the mess he’d made of things. Remembering the afternoon before, when she’d stood up to him with all that pride and fury shining in her eyes. And the other night, when he’d fallen asleep on her couch—the way she’d looked when she slipped the boy from his arms into hers and carried him into bed.

  A dozen other pictures, captured in so short a time, flitted through his head, until they were whittled down to one. This one. Zoe standing at the stove, with the morning sun streaming over her tousled hair, her robe flowing down, breakfast smells warming the room.

  How could he have thought he didn’t want this? Just this. And what did he do now that he knew the truth?

  “Food should help.” She set the plate in front of him. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”

  “Can you— Have you got a minute?”

  “I suppose.” She poured herself another cup of coffee. “I don’t have to be in until ten.”

  He began to eat while thoughts scrambled in his brain. “This is good. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She leaned back against the counter. “Did you want something else?”

  “Yeah.” He ate more, hoping eggs equaled courage. Then he put his fork down. It was the ninth inning, he thought, and there were already two outs. “You. I want you.”

  She smiled a little. “Coop, I doubt you’re in any shape for that, and I really have to go to work, so—”

  “No, I don’t mean that. I mean I do, but not—” He broke off, took a long, deep breath. “I want you to marry me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I think you should marry me. It’s a good idea.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized, he’d been working on this all along. He had it figured. “You can quit your night job and go back to school if you want. Or open that flower shop. Whatever. I think that’s what we should do.”

  “Really.” Because her hand was unsteady, she set her coffee down. “Well that’s very generous of you, Coop, but I don’t have to get married to do any of those things. So thanks just the same.”

  He stared. “No? You’re saying no? But you love me. You said it. Twice you said it.”

  “We can make it three,” she said evenly. “Yes, I love you. No, I won’t marry you. Now I really have to get ready for work.”

  “Just a damn minute.” Hangover forgotten, he pushed back from the table and rose. “What kind of game is this? You love me, your kid’s crazy about me, we’re terrific in bed, I even know how to drive a damn car pool, but you won’t marry me.”

  “You’re such an idiot. You’re such a fool. Do you think because I didn’t put up a struggle before I fell into your bed that you can have everything your own way? When you want it, how you want it? Well, you’re wrong. And you are a jackass.”

  He winced as she stormed from the room. Strike one, he thought. And he hadn’t even seen the pitch.

  But the game wasn’t over, he thought grimly, until the fat lady sang.

  * * *

  Zoe was still steaming when she came home from work. Of all the arrogant, interfering, self-absorbed idiots she’d ever known, J. Cooper McKinnon took the gold medal. Imagine him telling her that marrying him was a good idea, then ticking off all the advantages she’d gain.

  Oh, he thought he was a prize.

  One day he’s telling her to get any ideas of sneaking him into a relationship out of her head. As if she’d been baiting traps for him. The next he’s taking pity on her and offering her a big male helping hand.

  She should have bitten it off.

  Not once, not once had he said what she would bring to him, what he felt for her, what he wanted. Not once had he brought up the fact that he could or would accept another man’s child as his own.

  She jerked open the front door, slammed it. He could take his half-baked proposal and sit on it.

  “Mama! Hey, Mama!” Keenan zipped into the living room and grabbed her hand. “Come on, come on. We’ve got a surprise.”

  “What surprise? What are you doing home, Keenan? You’re supposed to be at the Finklemans’.”

  “Coop’s here.” He tugged manfully on her hand. “We have a surprise. And we have a secret. And you have to come now!”

  “All right, I’m coming.” She braced herself and let Keenan drag her into the kitchen.

  There were flowers, banks of them, vases and baskets overflowing on the counters, on the floor, on the windowsills. There was music, some soft, dreamy classical sonata, on the radio. The table was set, crystal she’d never seen before glinting in the sunlight, a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket. And Coop was standing there, in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks.

  “It’s a surprise,” Keenan announced gleefully. “We made everything look nice so you’d like it. And Mrs. Finkleman said we could use the glasses and the plates. And Mr. Finkleman made his special chicken ’cause it’s resistible.”

  “Irresistible,” Coop said, his eyes on Zoe. “You, ah, said you didn’t need flowers and candlelight, but I’ve never taken you out on a date. I thought this was the next best thing.”

  “Do you like it, Mama? Do you?”

  “Yes, it’s very nice.” She bent down to kiss Keenan. “Thank you.”

  “I get to go to the Finklemans’ so you
can have romance.”

  “Ah, come on, kid.” Coop scooped Keenan up. “Let’s get you started. You were supposed to keep quiet about it,” he muttered when he carried the boy outside.

  “What’s romance?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Satisfied with that, Keenan draped his arm around Coop’s neck. “Are you gonna tell Mama the secret about us all getting married?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And you’ll live with us and you can be my Daddy and that’ll be okay?”

  “That’ll be great. It’ll be perfect.” He stopped by the fence to press a kiss to Keenan’s mouth. “I love you, Keenan.”

  “Okay.” He squeezed his arms hard around Coop’s neck. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  “Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Finkleman stood at the back door. She sent Coop a wink and an exaggerated thumbs-up sign before whisking Keenan inside.

  She was standing pretty much where Coop had left her when he came back. He wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign.

  “So, ready for some champagne?”

  “Coop, this is very nice of you, but—”

  “Like the flowers?” Nervous as a cat, he popped the cork.

  “Yes, they’re wonderful, but—”

  “I couldn’t get them where you work, or I’d have spoiled the surprise. Keenan really gave me a hand setting things up.” He handed her the glass, and when she was distracted, he leaned in for a slow, warm kiss. “Hi.”

  “Coop.” She had to wait for her heart to finish its lazy somersault. “I know you must have gone to a lot of trouble—”

  “I should have gone to it before. I didn’t know I wanted to.”

  “Oh, Lord.” She turned away and struggled to get her emotions under control. “I’ve given you the wrong impression this time. I don’t need the trappings. I don’t have to have romantic evenings and”—she waved toward the tapers on the table, waiting to be lit—“candlelight.”